


meet me at the horizon

by murakamism



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Force Bond (Star Wars), Mild Sexual Content, Post-TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakamism/pseuds/murakamism
Summary: They find each other late at night, or under the stars, or in distant planets. She wants to touch him, wants to hold him, wants to make sure that he’s really there beside her. The bond thrums between them, but it’s never enough.But they’re still on two opposite sides, and when they’re found, one has to give.





	meet me at the horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [czechia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/czechia/gifts).



> For czechia's prompt: "(canon compliant) Rey and Kylo (or is it Ben? you choose) Occasionally communicate through their force bond but every time it ends in sadness and pain. They eventually take to meeting in secret (doing whatever you think they might) on far flung planets because the bond isn't enough for either of them. At one point they're caught but who will give in to their other half?"
> 
> This monster of a fic basically wrote itself. I made up a lot of details and left some plot holes but... it's all my indulgences in one. I hope you guys enjoy it! It was really fun to write <3

 

She calls out to him when she steps beneath the stars.

The night sky stretches onwards like a veil of darkness punctuated by white. Everything that shines beyond is far away, much larger than she is. It never fails to hit her, this vastness of the galaxy; even light years away, she’s reminded of the same sky she’d seen on Jakku.

Rey grows silent and solemn.

Light years away from her past on Jakku, and light years away from him—

The Force shifts around her.

Rey turns her head and catches Kylo’s figure sitting on an outcrop of rock. His black clothes blend into the darkness of the night, but his face is pale and beautiful underneath the planet’s two moons. They stare at each other wordlessly, and Rey swallows. Is it strange that she hates seeing him sit several feet away, even when he isn’t _really_ here?

(It _is_ strange. And traitorous. But her heart bleeds the way his does, and this compassion for Kylo Ren is something she knows she can never destroy)

She looks up again, only because she doesn’t want to see his face. _Even though I called out to him_. The stars continue to twinkle—and that ray of light, is it a comet or a giant ship?—and she’s grateful for the isolation of this new Resistance base.

“You look well,” Kylo says, his voice faint. Rey turns to face him fully, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. His gaze is always intense, and this time she’s drawn to it, unable to look away.

“It’s been a quiet week,” she replies. The fact that the First Order hasn’t launched any major attacks recently remains unspoken. The fact that the Resistance has been unable to crack the latest launch codes also flits by her mind.

“Sounds like the closest thing to a vacation you’ve had,” Kylo says. The side of his mouth quirks up in amusement. There isn’t enough light to see every inch of him here, but she doesn’t need moonlight to see him, only needs the Force and her mind’s eye.

And she knows that he’s just joking, but the idea of laughing at it burns at her tongue.

“Maybe we’d finally be able to take one if the First Order stopped massacring everyone,” Rey spits.

Kylo bristles, his jaw clenching. Something hardens in his eyes, and Rey prepares herself for the barbs he’ll spit back out.

“Or you could have joined _me_ ,” he says, voice barely level, barely containing his anger. Rey inhales sharply.

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You know I wouldn’t have made you my _prisoner_ , Rey. We are equals. You’d have everything, everything you’d ever want or need and you could even visit those traitors you call fr—“

“I left because it was the right thing to do!” Rey yells, cutting him off. Kylo’s mouth snaps shut, and then his brows furrow together, and she lowers her voice before he has a chance to reply. “You know I didn’t want to leave _you_ , Kylo. I wanted to leave the First Order. I wanted to save everyone, and that wouldn’t be possible…”

_Wouldn’t be possible by your side…?_

A thought she’d once held long ago. Now, she isn’t sure that she fully believes in it anymore.

“…That would only be possible on this side.”

She punctuates her sentence with a finger pointing to the ground. Kylo only sighs, his shoulders shaking. When he hunches forward he looks exhausted, resigned, and Rey suddenly notes that the dark circles under his eyes have grown larger. His skin is paler. She hesitates before stepping forward.

Kylo stares at her while she walks up to him. He glares, but it doesn’t deter her. When she finally stops in front of him she raises a hand between them. It remains frozen in space, and Rey isn’t sure if she should move it, if she should touch his face the way she wants to.

He understands. His voice softens, but his eyes remain hard.

“You know you can’t turn me, Rey,” he says, meeting her gaze. They stand only inches apart, and Rey finally decides to reach out and hold him, to caress her fingers against the edge of his jaw. He leans forward ever so slightly, but continues speaking. “I wish you’d stop insisting.”

“I’m not going to stop as long as I see the Light that’s inside of you.”

“Then I’m going to keep reminding you of that _choice_ you made to leave me, and that I’m offering it again. Rey, if you just join me, if you could see what I want to achieve—“

His voice rises, even with her fingers against his cheek. Rey presses her palm against his face and shakes her head, interrupting his speech.

“Wait. Let’s not fight tonight, _please_.” She swallows. Kylo stills, and she pushes forward. “I didn’t call you here just to fight.”

He raises a brow. Rey recognizes the tilt of his lip to mean a wry smile.

“Then what did you call me here for?”

He presses his face against her palm. His hair brushes the back of her hand, and Rey licks her lips. His eyes shine underneath the stars, and that gaze follows the movement of her mouth, the curve of her pink tongue.

Rey feels the back of her neck grow warm.

“I just…” She can’t admit it. “I…”

His gaze is heavy, expectant.

“Rey.”

“Aren’t you sick of it?” she asks, her voice whispered and low. Kylo watches her, enraptured by every word. Rey drops her hand and looks down at the ground, down at their feet. “Always fighting, always arguing, always trying to convince each other that what we’re doing is wrong.”

Kylo holds her wrist.

“It’s upsetting, yes,” he admits. “But honestly, I’m happy just to see you, even if you’re yelling.” She looks up and meets his twinkling eyes. “As long as you’re not trying to kill me.”

She bites down on her own smile. His thumb is reassuring against her wrist.

“Yes, but we’re not _actually_ seeing each other, are we?”

Kylo raises a brow.

“Rey, the Force is—“

She places her other hand on top of his own.

“I don’t always want to be half a galaxy away from you,” she says. At her words, Kylo’s eyes grow wide, and she muffles a giggle at his shock. He’s always surprised to hear words like these, even when she’s spent many nights pressed up against his chest, or cradling his head in her arms, falling asleep to his steady breaths. But those nights always end in mornings with an empty bed, and a mattress cold to the touch, not even indented to prove that he’d been really there.

The way he stares at her: eyes wide to take in every detail, unwilling to look away lest she disappear into thin air right in front of him.

The way he stares: as if she isn’t real.

She wants to fix that.

“What are you planning, Rey?”

She doesn’t quite respond. He already knows.

 

 

As soon as Rey breaks through the planet’s atmosphere, she takes in a sharp breath. The cloud cover is light and wispy, almost like tendrils of white smoke. Beyond her lies nothing but verdant green, a smattering of small, round creatures, and sloping hills. For miles and miles, there’s nothing but endless flora… except for a small black ship that she spots by the foot of a hill.

Rey reaches out and finds the presence of a familiar Force signature. Her heart flips in her chest.

She lands her own (borrowed, not stolen) ship a short distance away. As it lands with a loud whirr, the collection of creatures squeal and roll away, disappearing from sight. Rey quickly powers the ship down and descends, her heart pumping faster and faster.

She skips out of the ramp and lets out a gasp, her grin widening as she takes in her surroundings. The air is lighter here, only a bit uncomfortable, almost like she’s on the very top of a mountain even though she isn’t. It’s a small planet with less than five types of plants and mainly vegetarian and omnivorous creatures, so she’s probably the most deadly thing here but…

Rey looks through a light mist and feels her heart skip in her throat.

She freezes in place.

In the distance, a tall figure cloaked in black. He pulls down the hood of his cape.

Even all this feet away, Rey meets his eyes. She feels his voice rather than hears him.

He’s just as breathless as she is.

“Rey.”

“Kylo.”

They stand still, staring, soaking up each other’s presence. And then Rey smiles, her lips bursting with emotion. She sprints forward, each step light against the grass, as her heartbeat thunders in her ears. Kylo’s figure grows larger and larger as he nears, and she focuses on nothing but his clear eyes, his mouth that spreads into a relieved smile—

“Kylo—“

She slams into him, forgetting to stop at the last moment. He takes a step back but doesn’t fall. Rey wraps her arms around him, presses her face into his broad chest, swallows down a sob. She grips the back of his shirt, grips his dumb cape, and catches her breath with her face buried in the fabric of his clothes.

Slowly, his arms wrap around her. His grip is secure, tight, and he leans down to press his face into the top of her head, into her hair. The bond buzzes between them, through them, a mess of _finally, finally, finally, you’re really here you’re really here_.

She squeezes his torso and shuts her eyes tight.

“Rey, Rey, Rey.”

He’s mumbling her name into the crown of her head. Rey prods at his mind and then pauses, realizing that if she won’t stop then she might just cry. Kylo’s emotions are strong—they always are, always so passionate—and they wrap around hers so forcefully that she isn’t sure where her relief ends and Kylo’s begins.

They don’t need any words. Any hint of language falls and dies on Rey’s lips anyway; she isn’t sure _what_ to say, so she thinks it all instead, presses her heart into Kylo’s hands, into his mind. He responds through the bond, offers gratitude, relief, and comfort.

For a long time they just stand there, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

 

The weight of his arm is pleasant against her hip.

They had started walking out of want for something else to do. It was mostly spent in silence, and they hadn’t even touched—just the brush of his cape against her pant legs. But the inches of space between them burned her, and so she’d reached out to touch, to press fingers against the side of his arm. And he’d returned each gentle brush.

Until now. The way he rests his arm around her should be annoying, but Rey feels warm, and she likes it.

“We could probably see the entire surface of this planet within a week,” Kylo says. His voice is calm, level. Their pace slows, not because they’re tired, but because Rey doesn’t want to shake off his grip. She won’t ever admit it, of course.

“Not on foot,” Rey replies.

“But we could on a ship. Or perhaps a speeder.”

“And did you bring a speeder?”

“No, of course not.” He scoffs, but it’s more like a laugh. “But this would be the perfect planet to race on.”

“You’d want to race?” she asks, voice rising alongside her smile. “ _Kylo Ren_ racing on speeders?”

His fingers tighten at her side. “I’ve never actually…” He trails off, and then clears his throat. “It just seems like the type of thing you’d like. You little daredevil.”

Rey bumps her hip against his. He glances down at her, amused.

“Yeah, that does sound like something I’d want to try. Maybe next time.”

Next time.

She didn’t think it would be this easy. They’d agreed on an unsaid rule: no talk of the First Order, no talk of the Resistance. She isn’t sure how much time has passed, but they’ve spent it in pleasant company. When he rises to meet her barbs his voice is sharp, but not angry, and most of the time they laugh off each other’s bite.

The Force waxes and wanes all around them, between them, forming a cocoon of ebbing warmth—wherever they stand, it’s just the two of them.

But she doesn’t have a week to explore this dull place. She doesn’t even have five cycles. Eventually, people will wonder where she’s gone and why she’s taking so long. Rey bites her lip and stares down at the ground, watches their boots as they take more and more steps.

Rey tugs at the fabric of his tunic. He looks at her.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to see here,” she mumbles. “Let’s sit down.”

They sit by the foot of a grassy hill. She calls him _Kylo Ren_ and he calls her _Rey_ , but she feels like she is nothing but a scavenger, nothing but a woman, and he is nothing but a man named Ben Solo.

But she doesn’t call him that, not even when she leaves.

 

 

It’s over a month before they can see each other again. Rey goes on three missions—each one successful—and the time she spends in between is fleeting but precious. Poe’s been promoted and is busier than ever, and Finn is usually not far from his side. They’re all exhausted, all battered but not broken, and Rey is proud to see her first friend growing stronger, braver. He is a symbol as much as she is, and they’re constantly being pulled in different directions all at the same time.

Everything is so exhausting. She greets sleep desperately, and yet wakes with sore muscles and aching bones. The fresher can only do so much, relax her to some extent, so she’s grown to a liking towards baths.

It’s a luxury, really. Not just wasting all that water to _sit in_ , but also the time to just lie down and stare at an old ceiling, sitting still until her skin prunes.

The bond is always there, always buzzing at the back of her head. She blocks him out during core Resistance meetings, and he blocks her when he’s engaged in his own missions as Supreme Leader. The title is disgusting on her tongue, but she shuts her mouth and keeps quiet, letting her simmering displeasure speak for her.

Most of the time they don’t say anything. They only press and prod, curl around each other’s minds like boxers in a ring. The weight of Kylo’s mind at the back of her head is usually comforting, but it grows painful, burdensome, when she’s on the battlefield and standing amongst carnage.

_He did this. Your bondmate did this._

She slashes out at Stormtroopers and pretends that she can’t feel his arms reaching out to her.

But it’s times like this when she misses him desperately. She sits alone after the heat of a battle like she always does. The isolation isn’t new to her; back on Jakku, it had been all she’d known, but now that she’s gained a taste for companionship the cavern of her chest stings.

Rey sighs, sinking further into the bath. The bubbles are pink and fragrant, and she plays with them, swirls the water with her fingers until they form whirling shapes.

They only ever gain small patches of peace, of serenity. She knows what it’s like: it’s the silence of a new day, the awe of getting to watch another sunrise; it’s the relief of a successful mission; it’s a boisterous meal at the cafeteria, with Poe’s laughter and Finn’s voice in her ears; it’s seeing Leia embrace a young girl they’d saved—a new mother holding her child in stick-thin arms; and it’s staring up at the stars on dark, cloudless nights.

But it’s also Kylo when he doesn’t don his mask, when he comes to her with open arms and silence. When they squeeze together on her small bed, his body warm even when he’s actually half a galaxy away. It had been his face when they’d met on that distant planet, his small smile and his clear eyes, his arms secure against her.

Her chest clenches, and she’s sick of pretending that she doesn’t know why.

The Force shifts around her. She feels him appear slowly, her mind flooded with his presence. Rey realizes she’s naked and in the _bath_ so she gasps and hugs her knees to her chest, calling a towel to her hand with the Force.

When Kylo appears, his eyes are wide. His mouth falls open, but she doesn’t make out any words because she’s too busy yelling at him, covering herself up with the towel that’s now soaking wet.

“Kriff it, Kylo, this isn’t a good time—“

“I—I’m sorry,” he says. His face bursts into crimson, but his eyes remain focused on her, and Rey clears her throat. She glares.

“Go away. Or, or, _turn around!_ ”

He finally does turn around. She sees him stare down at the ground, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Rey sighs, standing up and properly wrapping the towel around herself. Her clothes are still outside, unfortunately, and even with the chill on her damp skin she can feel the heat already starting to spread around her face.

So she crosses her arms over her chest—trying to be as modest as she can—and then swallows, wondering what to say. Kylo shifts on his feet but doesn’t move towards her.

“This is familiar,” he quips, voice low. Rey blushes even harder when she realizes what he’s referring to.

“At least you were wearing pants,” she replies. And then huffs. “My clothes are outside. I want to get dressed.”

He nods, still facing the wall. Rey runs outside the fresher, dries herself off and gets dressed with a speed she didn’t know she was capable of.

When she pokes her head back inside, the Force fizzles, and Kylo is gone.

But she can still feel a heavy mortification that isn’t her own.

 

 

She makes her baths shorter after that incident. Of course it becomes unnecessary, because now Kylo doesn’t appear during them. Strangely, she’s disappointed, but Rey squashes down the thought because if he’d heard it, then he’d never let it go.

Still, something between them _shifts_. When he appears again, his eyes are darker, his smirk more dangerous. His voice is naturally deep and low—she’s aware of that—but sometimes it’s as if he’s purring into her ear, or rather, her mind, and Rey can’t prevent the shiver that goes down her spine.

One night he grabs her smaller hand in his own, presses his lips to it while staring right into her eyes.

He disappears right after that, and Rey wants to break something.

So she tries not to sound too eager when Kylo suggests that they meet again.

 

She lands her ship on a mid-sized planet on the Outer Rim. Immediately, Rey is apprehensive. She’s surrounded by a shipyard of vehicles in various states of rust and age, and she’s glad that the ship she’d borrowed (again, borrowed and not stolen, even though she had to take it in the middle of the night once more) was one of the older models the Resistance had.

The city stretches out before her eyes. The rust-colored sky hangs heavy above them, complete with clouds blackened like smoke. She makes her way through a thinning crowd, avoiding eye contact with everyone. There are several species she’s never seen before, but she pulls up her hood and reaches out through the Force, beckons him to come find her.

He does.

The city sprawls like vines crawling across the earth. But it’s wider than it is tall, and the buildings are mostly squat and close to the ground. Rey sprints away from the main streets full of vendors. The shadows here are long and dark, red as the planet’s crimson sun, and her skin prickles with discomfort.

But Kylo calls to her, his phantom hands steady in her own.

She finally meets him behind a building made of clay. He stands with his back to the wall—a lone figure in black contrasting sharply against the brown surface, against the rusty sky. Around them lies nothing but cracked walls, dust, and a wind warmed by a dying sun.

And then he smirks.

“You know I wouldn’t lead you somewhere dangerous,” he says instead of greeting her. Rey huffs and walks up to him, her hood falling back to reveal her face. He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her closer.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “You don’t have a good track record on that.”

Kylo’s lips curve into the shape of a grin. Rey reaches up, her fingers shaking, and presses her hand to his face. Traces his scar. He only looks at her, his eyes glinting in the dusky light, those lips pressed tightly together.

When her fingers reach his jaw, he turns his head to kiss her palm.

Something bright and painful bursts in Rey’s chest.

“I’m glad to see you,” she admits in a whisper. _I missed you._

 _I know_.

She smiles at his response.

_Did you miss me too?_

_You know I always do, Rey._

He leans down and presses his forehead against hers. He isn’t heavy, but his hands remain on her hips, and Rey is still. They have a silent conversation, their minds reaching out to each other like tendrils intertwined. Rey breathes, and feels Kylo breathe with her.

Finally, she speaks, because someone has to.

“Are you sure we should just be standing out here?” she asks him. Kylo pulls back and stares at her, a stray breeze lifting the edges of his hair. Rey focuses on the slope of his nose. “I’m pretty sure I passed at least four different bounty hunters.”

Kylo hums.

“I like this place,” he explains. “It’s distant, isolated, and unbearable.” _Like you?_ Rey quips. Kylo ignores her. “They get all sorts here, which means that they’ll respect our privacy.”

He steps away and carefully holds her hand. As if her fingers will break.

“Come on. I know the place.”

He pulls his hood up. Rey does the same. They walk through a maze of back alleys, squeeze against the walls to avoid bumping into passers-by, all while their hands are linked. Rey grips Kylo’s gloved hand tight and he squeezes back in reassurance.

It’s only when Kylo stops in front of another squat, orange building that Rey realizes they’ve arrived.

They enter. Kylo nods at the Neimoidian at the front desk, and then pulls Rey up a flight of stairs. The building is quiet, but its walls are thick, and Rey turns her head to catch the rays of sunlight that bleed into the small, square windows.

He pulls her along gently through a long hallway. Closed doors fill the walls, and Rey looks around, takes in every detail. Kylo finally opens the last room, enters, and she follows him.

The door closes behind them.

It’s a small room, almost square. One large bed occupies the center, and Rey feels herself start to blush. She’s about to yell at Kylo, ask him what the hell he means, until she turns her head to see him standing by the window he’d opened.

He shrugs one shoulder, offering a mysterious smile.

“Come here,” he says. “Look.”

Rey walks up to him and looks outside.

Her eyes widen.

They’re at the very border of the city. While a smattering of tents and various creatures still run about, if she looks further she can finally see the planet’s landscape in its full glory. The ground is flat and endless, sweeping broadly until it vanishes at the horizon. But patterns of red and orange form on the ground, swirling in waves, snaking around each other the way she knows sand dunes dance. But there are no dunes, no rolling mounds, just the colors glimmering underneath a weak sun.

“I know you said you never wanted to return to a desert,” Kylo says. “But I thought this would please you.”

She carefully wraps her fingers around his wrist. He glances down at her, his face fond and those lips soft. Rey wants to laugh, or maybe she wants to cry; she isn’t sure. He’d called her to a dangerous planet in the middle of nowhere just to watch a sand show and she _loves_ it, and she’d come here just to see him.

“It’s beautiful,” she replies. “Not like Jakku at all.”

And then, because she can’t handle it anymore, she goes up on her tiptoes and presses her mouth to his. Kylo slides one hand around her waist and another in her hair, and so she tugs him backwards, pulls him away from the window.

The heat from outside had already settled on her skin, but from his mouth blooms a different kind of warmth. It floods her senses, her chest and her fingertips, and she presses onwards desperately, swallowing down his every breath.

His lips really are soft, but they’re even softer against her own, against her tongue. His scar is rough underneath her hands, but she traces it with her thumb, tangles her hands in his hair. Kylo kisses her and as he takes, she gives, she offers, each kiss longer and slower than the last, his tongue sliding across her bottom lip. She only inhales sharply when she feels him lift her up, those large hands gripping her thighs, and so she wraps her legs tightly around his torso, distracting him with another kiss or three.

_I knew this bed wouldn’t go to waste._

She laughs at his audacity. But Kylo smiles against her mouth, even when he sets her down on the hard mattress. Rey tugs on his cape, and then on second thought tugs it _off_ , and he sheds it wordlessly.

He buries his face in her neck as he slides his hands underneath her shirt. Rey tries not to kick him. Instead, she arches her back, because his hands both tickle and burn wherever they touch. His mouth is wet on her throat, on her neck, on her collarbone, and she presses against him when he holds her breasts, those hands large on her chest.

She pulls off their shirts, their trousers, uncaring of where they fall. Rey tangles their legs together and grins as she nudges between his thighs. He only stares back, those eyes twinkling, and then leans down to press a kiss to her navel, her hip.

As she guides him, he is pliant beneath her hands.

All of it is a searing heat, a blaze burning inside of her skin. He thrums and hums into her thighs, teeth nipping sensitive flesh, and their minds are wrapped so tightly that she can’t tell where her pleasure ends and his begins. It should be painful, the way they burn, but Kylo buries his mouth between her legs and grips her thighs with his large hands and she can’t think anymore, not really, doesn’t even want to. He doesn’t complain when she tugs at his hair; he only sends an amused smirk through their bond, and Rey is lost enough that she only replies with a thrust of her hips. Everything is warm and wet, and stars are still bursting behind her eyelids when he finally slides into her. He groans and she feels it inside of her, through her, reverberating through her chest and through her bones. He whispers her name desperately, and she matches his rhythm, curls her fingers against his shoulders and buries a moan into his mouth.

How long it takes, she isn’t sure. She tries to press as close to him as possible, leave as few inches of skin untouched as possible. And he relents, slides his hands everywhere: through her hair, down her cheeks and neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her sides, her legs, her ass. He kisses her pulse, tongue lapping out at her throat, her wrist, her thighs. She tries to return the favor but her limbs shake, and it takes all her effort to squeeze his waist with her legs, to meet his hips.

_Kylo. Kylo._

She pants out his name when she can no longer breathe.

Even after they both finish, they lie side by side. Rey turns to face him. Kylo only stares at her, his messy hair haloed on the pillow and framing his face. Dark and frizzy. Rey presses her cheek against the pillow and smiles.

“What is it?” Kylo asks, voice soft. Rey rests her hand on the space between their chests.

“I just realized I’ve never seen you like this before.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges. The scar is pink against his skin.

There’s a lot she hasn’t seen, hasn’t had a chance to see. There’s a lot she hasn’t shown. The sunlight slices into the room and falls on Kylo’s scarred back. They’re both in the middle of nowhere, in a place they aren’t supposed to be. And yet Rey feels like it’s right, like she fits.

The bond hums between them.

Is it possible, she wonders, to live in a world where this gentle face will greet her every morning? A world with no fresh scars, with no stealing ships in the dead of night just to hold his hands. A warless world, if that’s even possible—

Or perhaps, a world of their own. Separate from the rest of the galaxy.

_That’s a dangerous train of thought._

Kylo reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek.

_You want it, but it wouldn’t be right._

She glances at him from beneath her lashes. Kylo doesn’t speak, and she’s sure he’d be content enough to lie there with her for all eternity.

The thought both frightens and comforts her.

She sits up and then winces. Rey glances around the room and is disappointed that it’s as plain as when they’d first come in.

“Oh, Maker. This room doesn’t have a fresher.”

Kylo only smirks. “I have one on my ship.”

She scoffs at him. He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She takes him up on his offer, if only just so that she has a longer time to say goodbye to every inch of him.

 

 

The base is loud with activity. Rey skirts around a group of rebels carrying crates away from the hangar. A mission on the Mid Rim has been completed, and so the pilots descend from their ships, faces red and sweaty once they remove their helmets. Rey smiles, glad to see that they’ve all come back safely. When she turns around she spots Finn standing in a circle with three other pilots and Rose.

He catches her eye, and his face instantly brightens.

“Rey!” he calls out. Rey returns his grin and offers an excited wave. She watches him excuse himself and run up to her. When he nears, she pats his shoulder.

“Finn, how are you?”

“Great! They didn’t even need to put me in a Bacta Tank this time.”

Rey laughs. “Oh, it’s good to see you, Finn. It really is.”

“Well, you’ll be seeing me more often. I volunteered to help fix up the hidden tunnels under our base. That’ll take a while until our next mission.”

She takes his arm and they walk together, out of the hangar and out of everyone’s way.

“When will they give you a proper rank and title?” she jokes.

“I don’t know. Poe called me an Honorary Captain, but that’s not as cool, is it?”

They weave their way through the base, greeting and nodding at familiar faces that they pass. As they stray from the center the crowds grow thin, and Rey is glad to be home again, glad to see her friends.

_That’s right. This is what you’re fighting for._

“You must be glad to finally be back here,” she muses. “If only just for a while.”

Finn pauses. He makes a face, and Rey doesn’t understand it.

“Actually… I did return here. About a week ago. Thanks to some new intel that popped up last minute, we finished the mission much earlier than expected.”

“Huh? Then, that’s great!”

Finn looks at her, his brows furrowed in concern. He lowers his voice, whispers as if he doesn’t want anyone else but her to hear. And honestly, probably no one else is listening, but Rey’s heart begins to pound all the same.

“So imagine my surprise when I’m back here looking for you, but I can’t find you anywhere. I heard a rumor that you were continuing your Jedi training somewhere—I mean, the Force is mysterious, right? You never know when it calls. Except that you never actually _told_ anyone you were going, and by sheer coincidence, one of our ships was unaccounted for.”

Rey loosens her grip on Finn’s arm.

“Finn…”

“And Rose… Rose told me she saw you sneaking out one night. You grabbed one of the ships and just took off. I know I was off-planet, but she noticed that you were gone for about two days.”

Rey’s mouth is dry. They slow down when they reach an empty corridor.

“Rey, I’m worried. Where are you going? What do you do? Why can’t you tell anyone?”

She looks up at him. Finn really does look worried, and she wants to reassure him that everything’s all right. He doesn’t have to worry. But the idea of lying to her best friend makes the guilt bubble up in her gut. Rey is quiet, thinking of what to say.

“I…” she pauses, swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice is low. She continues. “Sometimes I can’t take it anymore, so I need to go away. Be alone.”

The lie is heavy on her tongue.

Finn believes her. She knows that he does. It’s in his eyes, in the downturned curve of his frown.

“It’s… It’s tough, isn’t it?” he asks. He tries to smile, and Rey wishes that her own was more convincing. “Endless missions. Even if we’re making progress, you start to wonder if it’ll ever end while you’re still alive.”

His hand is gentle on her shoulder.

“Everyone looks up to you as their hope. But you know I’m here for you, right? Rey, if you ever need to talk to someone, there’s always me.”

He smiles at her.

“I know you’re strong and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It’s just that I get worried too, you know? What if you get tracked by the First Order or something. At least we’d know how to help you.”

“Finn…”

She hugs him, because she isn’t sure what else to say. He hugs her back, those hands patting her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice tightens, and she wishes that she could tell him the truth. But just the idea of confessing to it makes her throat clam up. “I… I know. Thank you for being there for me.”

“You know I’ve always got you.”

Even if her laugh sounds more like a sob, he doesn’t question it.

 

Their dinner is the loudest it’s been for a while. She doesn’t remember the last time they’d all been together at the same time. Finn, Poe, Rose and her. The new girl has grown less shy, and Rey admires her newfound confidence, listens intently as she speaks about the new planet she’d been on. It was a beautiful place, and Rose had clearly been enamored by the scenery, but her smile was brightest when she told them how they had finally freed the planet’s slaves.

The air is light between them, full of laughter and hope. But there’s a bacta patch on Poe’s jaw, and Rose’s cheeks have grown thinner. Even Finn, dear Finn, hunches forward when he accidentally pulls a sore muscle.

There are rumors of a new First Order base. They’ve relocated one of their largest weapons factories, and Rose’s voice is hushed as she explains their new security system. Rey swallows, the rations suddenly tasting like dust in her throat, as she realizes that the empire continues to grow.

She thinks about reaching out to Kylo. Asking him _why_ he continues to do this. Even if the new factory is under General Hux’s command, surely he could—

But no, she doesn’t call out to him. She doesn’t open their bond. Rey takes a large bite of bread and offers a polite nod when the topic moves away to something more pleasant, something about two Resistance members wanting to get married on base. General Organa herself suggested the idea.

It’s good news. It’s exactly what they need. The celebration of something beautiful: love, the future, hope.

And yet Rey’s mind wanders to Kylo. _Could we ever have this too, someday?_

He doesn’t reply in words, but she feels him prod at her with something akin to longing.

 

Kylo’s the one that reaches out to her that night. She feels waves of betrayal and anger and _despair_ so strong that she almost retches. When Kylo appears in her bedroom, he stumbles forward, still fully-clothed in his armor.

His mask slips from his fingertips and drops to the ground with a clang.

“Kylo?”

He looks like a wild animal, a beast with untamed hair and blooming skin. She walks up to him carefully, arms extended to offer an embrace. His body is stiff underneath her touch, almost like a spring fraught with tension, about to explode.

“Kriffing Hux,” he spits. “He’s been acting without my consent again. Ordered another massacre on Ligu. I told him those Ligolians weren’t a threat, but he didn’t listen to me, and he had the nerve to call me out for getting _soft_ —“

Rey’s eyes widen.

“There won’t be anything left to rule over if you destroy it all,” Kylo snarls. “That’s what I was supposed to change. I’m not _Snoke_. I was supposed to be better—“

Rey keeps a careful hand on his shoulder. She presses into his flesh, rubs soothing circles into his muscles. She gets him to sit down on the bed. He grips the edge of the mattress with his gloved hands.

“And not to mention how he’s constantly _questioning_ my capacity as Supreme Leader. I’d finally kill him if I wasn’t sure that there would be a coup afterwards.”

He spits, mutters, curses. His grip on the edge of the bed looks painful, and she’d be afraid that he would break it if he were actually here. But it’s not a full-blown tantrum, and there’s no sign of his lightsaber about to go off, so she sits there quietly and waits for him to simmer down.

If there’s one thing Rey’s learned, it’s that they’re both dangerous. And volatile. Meeting Kylo’s stubborn anger head on with her own will just erupt into something much, much worse.

When he runs out of things to say, she finally reaches out to brush away the hair from his ears. Kylo looks at her, his shoulders falling, and she can feel the sigh through his body, through their bond.

When he looks at her, the anger is extinguished from his gaze.

“Meet me again,” Kylo whispers. Rey stills her hand stroking his hair.

“Kylo…”

His face is close to hers. His voice is low. She recognizes that look of pleading.

Kylo Ren does not beg. But he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Let me see you again,” he says, and Rey hates herself for the way her defenses drop, for the way she always gives in.

“I want to see you too,” she explains carefully, slowly, each sentence punctuated by a soothing hand on his face. “But I can’t leave so soon. They’ve begun to notice.”

Kylo’s tone falls. “They won’t let you leave.”

“I never asked for permission,” she corrects. “But I should have been more careful. I can’t stay away for too long anymore. The Resistance needs me.”

He frowns, his handsome face contorting into half a snarl. Rey stiffens, ready to argue, but his tone is composed, even when it drips with bitterness. He meets her gaze full-on, as if daring her to deny it.

“But I need you. And you need me.”

He knows she has no choice but to bristle.

“This is bigger than both of us, Kylo! I can’t just abandon them—“

She doesn’t deny that she needs him. She doesn’t show her surprise at him willingly admitting his weakness for her.

“I knew you would say that,” he interrupts. “You never change, do you, Rey?”

“As if I’m the only one unwilling to leave my side. My _friends_.”

“The First Order means nothing to me,” he replies, voice flat. Rey blinks. “I thought you knew that.”

“But… you _wanted_ to become Supreme Leader.”

“I have a vision, yes,” he replies. “To correct Snoke’s reckless totalitarian regime, and to correct the Senate’s foolish bureaucracy. Diplomacy alone cannot unite the galaxy.”

Rey’s mouth falls open. She stutters out a question. “What are you… what do you mean?”

“I thought I could purge the First Order. Gaining power for the sake of power is unnecessary. I just didn’t expect how deep Hux’s influences were—his and other power-hungry insolents like him.”

Rey swallows.

“Before you rebuild, sometimes it is necessary to destroy.” His eyes flick back to hers. “I’ve been pulling out the weeds, but their roots have dug too deep. There’s been a lot of clamor, Rey. People aren’t happy with the new Supreme Leader’s restructuring.”

They’re both silent. Rey doesn’t know what to say. The air hangs heavy between them, even when their bodies are bridged by her hands. There’s that part of her—the one that is optimistic and foolish, but so bright and full of light—that glows with happiness and hope. There _is_ hope for Kylo; she’s always known that. She still doesn’t agree with any of this, doesn’t think that he should have anything to do with the murderous First Order at all, and yet…

And yet she understands it. The pull of the Darkness inside him.

“I’m expecting another mission this week,” Rey says. “I can meet you after that.”

Kylo nods without another word. And then he leans down to kiss her, his lips dry against her own. She presses back, long but chaste, just lips against lips. The bond thrums between them, curling around their bodies, aching for something more.

 

 

As soon as her ship touches the ground, Rey reaches out through the Force, searching for Kylo’s presence. She finds him and everything grows warm, grows calm. Like a faint electric jolt running through her, like his fingertips skimming the surface of her skin.

But she can sense something _wrong_ dancing in her gut. Rey doesn’t understand it, so she calls out to Kylo, transfers her worry through their bond.

He says he can’t feel it, but if something goes wrong, at least they’ll be together.

The planet they’re on lies on the Outer Rim. They land their ships in the shadow of a jungle, miles away from the nearest city. When Rey steps out of her ship the air is heavy and humid, sweltering. Something caws in the distance, and she steps over a vine that tries to curl up her boot.

_Kylo?_

_I’m here._

She walks through a canopy of green. This jungle is alive and thriving, and the Force wanes and shifts all around them, heavy in the air. Rey’s eyes are wide when she looks at her surroundings; every inch of this place is full of life. Berries that open up when she draws near, their colors melting and changing; a small reptilian creature that lays flat on the forest floor; the sound of water roaring in the distance.

Water?

Rey hurries onwards. The nearby waterfall is strong with the Force, and is strong with _his_ signature.

She emerges through a curtain of vines. The water is louder now, and the world stretches out before her—an endless landscape of open air and clear sky. She steps on the edge of the cliff, flowers still growing beside her boots, and looks down into a gigantic pot of frothing water, bluer than she’s ever seen.

“Rey.”

She turns her head and sees Kylo standing there, staring at her with something akin to wonder. He’s shed his helmet, his cape, and his gloves; they’re all neatly folded on a nearby rock. Rey’s mouth grows dry, and she can’t help the smile that graces her lips.

“Kylo!”

They go up to each other, their strides wide. Rey opens her arms for an embrace and he takes it, wraps his arms around her and lifts her off the ground. Rey falters, her heart pounding—“Hey!” she yells, but he doesn’t listen—but Kylo’s insistent nose in the junction between her neck and shoulder makes her giggle and laugh.

He sets her down but doesn’t let go. Rey leans up to kiss the side of his jaw. His scar.

“You’ve been impatient, haven’t you?” she asks. Kylo huffs, his hand resting on her hip.

“You were the one who planned this,” he replies.

_Only after your whining._

He doesn’t quite smile, but despite the downturn of his lips, his eyes glint with mirth.

 

They sit side-by-side, their arms pressed together. A winged creature caws as it flies above the waterfall, and Rey tracks its movements with her eyes. Kylo doesn’t speak, only silently presses against her, and despite the humidity that makes her sweat she’s grateful for his added warmth.

It’s proof that he’s here. That he’s real.

She curls her fingers on his knee.

Her comlink beeps.

Rey blinks, fishing it out of her pocket. She notices Kylo turn his head to look at her, his eyes growing wary.

“Rey? Are you still on Ach-to?” Finn asks, his voice ringing clear. The water must register as a crackling background noise into the microphone. Finn speaks again before Rey can reply. “Rey?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “I was meditating.”

“We’ve got a new mission directive,” Finn tells her. “Meeting a mark that may have intel on construction for the First Order, and then we’re collecting more raw supplies. Poe and the others have already arrived on planet, but they might need back-up. They said the place was strong with the Force.” Finn pauses. “You should’ve gotten a headstart already, but you weren’t answering your comlink.”

Rey’s brows furrow together.

“I was… distracted. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She can hear Finn’s smile through his voice. “They can take care of themselves just fine. It’s just that there are rumors, you know, that the jungle is deadly and will trap you inside unless you find your way out with the Force. It didn’t spook Poe, but it kinda spooked me.”

Rey’s mouth goes dry.

“Jungle?”

There are numerous planets with jungle habitats, located all over the galaxy. This is surely a coincidence.

“Yeah, I’ll send the coordinates to your ship. The planet’s Kah-telu, located on the Outer Rim.”

Kylo’s body stiffens against her. Rey forces herself to nod, even though Finn can’t see.

“Right. Right. Thanks, Finn, I’ll head there now.”

Finn says goodbye, and the comlink grows silent. But there’s a ringing in Rey’s ears—she’s sure it’s her frantic heartbeat. She stands up and meets Kylo’s guarded eyes.

“You need to leave,” she says.

“At least seventy percent of Kah-telu is covered by rainforest,” Kylo replies, standing up gracefully. He dusts off his trousers. “It’s a mid-sized planet, big enough for all of us.”

And then he holds his hand out to take hers.

“It’ll be all right, Rey.”

She grips his hand, slips her fingers through his larger, gloved ones. He squeezes back, and Rey knows that they shouldn’t just be _standing_ here, they should be moving already, but it feels like they didn’t have enough time again.

They never have enough time.

Kylo starts walking before she does. He tugs her along, leading the way.

Even when they return to the canopy of thick trees, he doesn’t let go of her hand. His voice is low, though, and he makes silent footsteps despite his large frame.

“We should probably split up,” he suggests. “It’s more dangerous to be discovered together.”

That’s right. That’s right. But Rey only shakes her head and squeezes his hand even tighter.

Her palms are sweaty.

“No. No, I want to stay together.”

Kylo turns his head away, but she sees a shadow of a pained smile on his lips.

“I’ll bring you to your ship first,” he says instead, and then resumes walking.

As someone from a dry desert, Rey feels the weight of the humidity settling on her skin. She sweats frantically from every pore, and her heart doesn’t stop beating rapidly against her ribcage. She considers contacting Poe, but he hasn’t contacted her yet, and she doesn’t want to distract him if he’s in the middle of a mission.

Kylo’s figure is steady in front of her—a large body cloaked in black, cutting sharply into the forest of greens and browns.

He doesn’t wear his mask.

It seems like the trip back takes longer than the way to the waterfall. Rey keeps silent, focusing on not tripping over the living vines that crawl across the forest floor. She buzzes uncertainty, but Kylo presses against her through the bond.

_You’re usually the confident one._

She huffs.

_Why hasn’t Poe contacted me yet?_

Kylo hums. _Maybe you should contact him first._

_No. No, I’ll wait._

She’s afraid to. Kylo recognizes this but doesn’t push.

They round another tree, avoiding a glittering beetle. Rey’s ship comes into view and she relaxes, shoulders falling. There isn’t anyone around—they both reach out with the Force—and for that she’s relieved.

“Be safe,” he tells her. His voice is whispered but heavy, and she looks up at him, meets his gaze. His hair, usually immaculate, is a bit puffier than usual with the weather. She smiles even if her muscles fight against it, even if her chest aches, and then reaches up to touch his face one last time. Trace the bottom of his scar.

“That’s what I should be telling you,” she replies. Kylo’s face is warm in her hands.

She leans up to kiss him, presses her mouth against his harder than necessary. Kylo’s lips linger against hers, and he doesn’t pull away even when he speaks.

“We’ll see each other again.”

“I know.”

It’s a promise.

He pulls away, swallowing a lump in his throat. Rey’s hand remains against his cheek, and he lifts his own hand to press it against hers. Her fingers are dwarfed by his, and when he opens his mouth, she realizes this is it—he’s going to say goodbye.

(“It’s not a goodbye,” he’d said to her that last time. “I’ll still see you again.”

And then she’d smiled, because he was generally clumsy with words—never this charming)

His eyes are speckled with sunlight.

“Rey?”

That voice doesn’t match his.

Kylo drops his hand and looks behind her. He bristles, steps back, hand reaching for the weapon at his side. Rey spins around and her eyes widen—Poe Dameron stands several feet away, accompanied by two other Resistance members.

Even before she can speak, Poe fires a blaster in Kylo’s direction. It narrowly misses her; she ducks in time. And then she turns her head to see Kylo’s avoided it too, his lightsaber now glowing in the space of the forest.

His eyes are burning.

“No, wait, stop!” Rey yells out. She dives between them, hoping to prevent a fight, but Poe’s already running forward, firing another shot. The floor explodes between them, making a mess of dust and leaves erupt into the air, and Rey hears the sizzle of Kylo’s lightsaber as it slashes through the temporary fog.

The other two rebels—Laka and Mitty, both of them older recruits—join the fray. Rey inwardly apologizes as she smacks away Mitty’s blaster, and then spins to kick Laka away as it falls to the ground with a thump.

_Kylo, please run._

She calls out to him desperately. As she spins, she catches his figure—wild-eyed and hazy, the red of his lightsaber reflected on his face, making his scar look angrier than ever.

“Stop! Poe, don’t—“

_Please don’t hurt him._

_He shot first_ , Kylo retorts in her head. She grits her teeth and then stands her ground, realizes she’s done with all of this.

_Put down your lightsaber._

He deflects another blaster shot. Kylo ignores her.

“Why are you defending him?” Laka hisses. She avoids Rey and aims her blaster at Kylo, hoping to aid Poe, but Rey pushes her away at the last second. The blast buries itself in a nearby tree instead.

Mitty tries to tackle her to the ground. She intercepts. And then looks to find Kylo in the distance, his stance defensive but not offensive, the man steadily deflecting blasts from Poe’s weapon.

He’s not hurting him.

He’s not fighting back.

He’s not using the Force to push him away.

Rey’s heart swells and aches at the same time.

What are you doing, Kylo?

This man in front of them, this Kylo Ren, he is no longer the same monster—

“Stop it!” Rey yells. “Just, stop it!”

Poe, Laka, and Mitty all sail away from her, and then land on the forest floor with dull thuds. Poe groans, his thigh banging painfully against a raised tree root, while Laka and Mitty roll further away, kicking up dust.

Rey stumbles forward from the strength of her own Force push. She gasps, then looks up. Kylo grabs his deactivated lightsaber from the ground. Even he sways—partially hit by her strength—but he looks at her with clear eyes.

 _Go,_ she insists. Moisture prickles behind her eyelids. _Please just go._

He nods and then hurries, disappears into the coverage of the jungle, his face turned away.

 _If they try to hurt you,_ he presses into her mind. _I’ll come back._

_They won’t hurt me. Get on your ship and leave. They’re not the only Resistance members here._

He doesn’t reply. She feels his Force signature hovering in the distance, albeit out of sight. Rey wants to scream at his stubbornness.

But Poe finally staggers up towards her.

“What the kriff was _that_ , Rey?”

She looks at him. Poe seethes—he’s angry, yes, angry and confused and under the veneer of all of that… even hurt. She clenches her jaw, unwilling to back down.

Laka and Mitty stand up as well. Mitty coughs into his sleeve, but she doesn’t spare either of them a glance. She only meets Poe’s stare head-on, her chest still overflowing with an emotion that she can’t quite place.

“You were defending Kylo Ren. _Kylo Ren._ The Supreme Leader of the First Order now, just in case you’ve forgotten. We could have gotten him, and then maybe we’d finally win—“

“He wasn’t doing anything,” she interrupts. “He didn’t even try to attack you. He was defending himself. And that blast almost hit me too, Poe—“

He shoves a finger into her chest. “Wasn’t doing anything? Then what do you call that _thing_ you were both doing before, hm?”

Rey’s face burns with heat. She continues on.

“He wasn’t a threat.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true.”

They’re both silent as they continue to glare at each other. Poe’s brows furrow together, and then his voice comes out sharp, _scandalized_.

“You know I—I thought you’d _told_ him that we had a mission here. I thought you’d leaked information to the Supreme Leader of the First Order. But if you were really on Ach-to, then you wouldn’t be here this early. He could make it in time, but you couldn’t.” His face crumples, and Rey’s anger makes way for guilt. The guilt that’s been building inside of her, ready to implode and take her with it. “That means that you were already here, weren’t you? Even before Finn gave you the directive.”

Rey doesn’t reply.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Poe asks, fists and jaw clenching. Rey doesn’t dare move a muscle— _can’t_ move a muscle—everything hurts too much, hurts all over, but most of all it hurts her inside and she can’t, can’t say anything. Not while Poe looks at her with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

She can take the anger. And she can even take the disgust. But disappointment, because she’d broken their trust—

Her heart is a traitorous thing.

“You’ve been meeting with him,” Poe finishes. It’s not a question anymore, and none of them need to ask. “That’s where you’ve been going all this time.”

Rey can’t keep up the anger in her glare anymore.

She can feel tendrils of disgust float from Laka and Mitty’s direction. Disgust and shock. Betrayal. Poe’s emotions ring so loud and clear that she’s almost deafened by them, almost burned by the intensity. Rey curls her hand into a fist so hard that she expects her nails to break skin.

Poe steps closer.

“I am Commander Poe Dameron, and it is my duty to contain threats to the Resistance.”

Rey’s eyes widen.

“Arrest her,” he says, and as Rey surges backwards two pairs of arms grab her by the shoulders. Laka and Mitty clamp her hands together—that’s definitely a blaster digging into her spine—and she struggles, her legs flailing about. She kicks Laka’s shin, but the woman only grunts and twists her arm further.

“Let me go!” Rey yells out. “You can’t—you’re not really—“

She elbows Mitty’s ribs, but Poe descends on her, and even when the blaster drops to the ground she falls with it.

 _Use the Force_ , something dark whispers inside of her. It bubbles up carefully, looming in her gut, like a cold wind blowing through her heart.

_Don’t let them capture you. They’ve given up on you. They don’t understand._

She Force shoves the blasters away but doesn’t touch them. They’re still her comrades, and Poe is her _friend_ , and maybe when they’re back on base they’ll let her explain.

_Will they? Haven’t you already lost their trust?_

_I won’t hurt them._

Two hits come to the back of her head. She shouts in pain, and her vision goes dark.

Faintly, Kylo’s arms wrap around her mind, his voice brimming with concern.

And fear. And anger.

She tries to press against him but she only slips through his embrace and falls into unconsciousness.

 

 

She wakes with a gasp, and then squeezes her eyes shut as her head throbs with the remnants of pain.

Rey rolls to her side and presses her palms to her face. She rubs her eyes and then blinks them open blearily, almost blinded by the artificial light flooding into her room.

She sits up, ignoring the throbbing in her head.

She’s on a bed, a blanket tucked over her. The room is small and gray, constructed of duracrete. The door lies across her, locked and barred, with only a small panel of glass that can be opened from the outside.

She recognizes this room. It’s a prison cell inside the Resistance base.

A tray of food and water lies on the floor at the foot of her bed. Rey realizes she’s hungry, absolutely starving, and descends on the meal like it’s a feast fit for a king. She eats quickly, scarfs down her food and water like she’s about to die of hunger and thirst—and when she finishes, she sighs and sits down on the floor, leaning her back against the bed.

Someone must have changed her clothes. She’s dressed in a shirt and a pair of soft trousers. When she touches the back of her head she feels a bandage covering part of her hair. Her hands are clean, and the sweat that had stuck to her on Kah-telu’s jungle is gone.

A pair of light silver bracelets encircles her wrists.

Force-resistant cuffs.

Rey leans her head against the mattress, her mouth pulling down into a painful frown.

The uncertainty only bursts inside of her chest. She wants to sob, wants to cry—but it doesn’t come out. She lets out a rasp, half of a cry, and it sounds pathetic, pathetic and breathless in this silent room.

_Kylo?_

He doesn’t reply. She can’t feel him through the Force—can’t feel _anything_ —and it only hurts her even more.

She sits there, waiting, waiting for what, she doesn’t even know.

Nobody else comes except for the droid that delivers her dinner a few hours later.

 

Three days later, someone finally comes to collect her. Poe opens the door. He’s flanked by four other Resistance soldiers behind him.

Isn’t that overkill, Rey wants to tease, but his expression is closed off and stern. There’s a tightness at his lips that she’s never seen directed at _her_ before.

Even so, he doesn’t really look at her. Doesn’t meet her eyes. His voice is commanding and flawless; the voice of a Commander, but not of a friend.

“The General wants to see you,” he says. The soldiers come in to collect her and she doesn’t struggle. She lets herself be led out of the cell, her footsteps silent as they pad through the empty hallways.

Poe’s back is large in front of her. She wants to reach out to him. She wishes she could.

“How’s Finn?” she asks, because she has to know. Poe’s shoulders grow stiff.

“Fine.”

And then Rey swallows.

“How have you been these past few days?”

Poe doesn’t reply, but she’s noticed the darker circles under his eyes. She wonders what the rest of the Resistance thinks now. If her newfound family will ever take her back, or if they’ll throw her out.

That’s not like them, she knows. Rebellions are about hope and redemption. Even Finn was given a second chance.

But still.

The void inside of her mind hangs heavy, haunting her every movement. There’s a Kylo-shaped hole in her heart, and she isn’t even bothered by how much he completes that distant, hidden part of her.

She’d meditated a lot those past three days. But everything was dead and empty, lifeless, unresponsive. Losing the Force is like losing another sense, another limb, and she struggled with that loneliness for two days and three nights.

But loneliness is familiar. Loneliness is all she’d known for fourteen years.

_Doesn’t make it any less painful._

They make their way to one of the more distant conference rooms. Rey steels herself as they guide her inside, those hands settled firmly on her arms and shoulders. The door slides shut behind them. Poe doesn’t take a seat, and neither do any of them.

“The General will be here soon,” says a young man with a holopad. He steps into the room quickly, and then notes the guards. “She says you’re all dismissed. Except Commander Dameron.”

They look at each other faintly, but then exit without any more words. Poe still refuses to look at her, so she focuses on his fists at his side instead, at his defeated shoulders.

The Force-resistant bracelets and handcuffs are heavy on her wrists.

The young man leaves them alone.

“Was he…” It takes her a moment to realize Poe’s speaking to her. His brows furrow together, and Rey faces him, listening fully. “Was he threatening you? Did he try to control you?”

Rey shakes her head.

“No, Kylo didn’t do any of that at all.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, the façade of Commander Dameron falls, and she feels that he’s Poe, her friend, once more. But he stands too far away, and he still won’t look at her properly.

“I don’t get it,” he says. “You’ve always been trying to kill each other. You know he’s a monster. You know what he’s done. And yet you… you call him _that_.”

“It’s his name.”

“What is he to you, Rey? And what are you to him?”

She clams up. The metal is cold against her skin. Poe looks at her, and despite the pain she knows that he’s trying to _understand_. Even if he can never forgive Kylo Ren, even if he can never see the Light that she sees, he’ll accept _her_.

This is her friend, her family.

There are three words that are heavy on her tongue. They clog her throat, weigh down on her tongue like rocks. She can’t spit them out; they deserve more than that, even when Rey herself has always been too damaged for delicacy.

She’s never told Kylo these words yet. She’s never needed to. He’s always just known.

“I…”

_Kylo. Ben._

The door slides open. They both look up as General Organa walks in, her shoulders thrown back despite her small stature. Poe bows his head in greeting. Leia returns his nod, and then looks at Rey.

Rey looks back.

“General Organa,” she mumbles.

Oddly, Leia smiles at her.

She steps forward, approaching Rey. Something jingles between her fingers.

“Now, let’s get those cuffs off, shall we?”

Poe’s mouth drops open, but she shushes him before he can speak. Rey only watches, wide-eyed, as the cuffs and the bracelets fall to the ground with a clatter. Leia gives an approving nod, and then slowly cradles Rey’s wrists.

Rey looks at her. Leia smiles, her lips sharp and thin. Gentle.

“I know you won’t hurt us, Rey,” she says. “You’re part of the family.”

Rey bows her head, shoulders rising in embarrassment. No, not just embarrassment—gratitude and relief at Leia’s kindness. The older woman pats her hands, and each touch is soothing.

“I’m sorry it took us so long. We’ve had lots of meetings discussing what to do.”

Rey swallows. “I’m a traitor.”

“You aren’t.”

She looks at her. Leia’s smile is gone, but her eyes shine with something bright.

“You aren’t a traitor, Rey. You are a great asset to the Resistance.”

Rey ducks her head again.

“You didn’t leak any information about our mission, did you?” she asks again, head tilting up to meet Rey’s gaze. Rey shakes her head, denying it.

“No, of course not!”

“You never gave him any information about the Resistance.”

“No, never.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” She smiles again, and Poe splutters behind her.

“General—“

“Do you know why I asked Finn to inform you last about the mission?” Leia asks, a brow raised. Rey makes a noncommittal noise. A confused one. Leia continues. “By the time he told you, Poe and the others had already completed their directive. If the First Order came because of your tip, we would be ready to ambush them.”

Rey doesn’t speak.

“But there was no attack. In fact, there were no other First Order ships… except the personal shuttle belonging to Kylo Ren. Landed a few meters away from your ship.”

Leia’s fingers are soothing against the back of Rey’s hands. She tries not to shake. When she looks at Poe, he’s focused on the General.

“Our missions have been mainly successful, and the First Order is still unaware of the locations of our remaining bases. At least, they have not attacked.” Leia’s voice is calm but hushed. “If you had leaked information to the First Order, then no doubt we would have been wiped out by now. But we haven’t. We’re still here.”

They’re all silent. Leia releases Rey’s hands, and the girl drops them to her sides. She looks at Leia, and then down to the ground. Even if they forgive her, even if she won’t be arrested or thrown out—how can they continue on like this? With everyone knowing about her and Kylo?

And will they ever see _each other_ again? In a place that isn’t the battlefield? In a more peaceful world?

She remembers it. Each of his touches against her bare skin. His gloved hand large and warm in hers. His voice, low and gentle, a flutter against her ear. His little half-smile as his eyes twinkle with amusement.

He still owes her a race on speeders.

“Rey, you still see the Light in my son, don’t you? Even after all this time.” Leia’s smile grows sad, soft and sad, and Rey smiles back—just as pained.

“He’s trying in his own way.”

“Always was a stubborn boy. But you’ll beat it out of him next time, won’t you?”

Rey laughs, and even though Leia joins her with a chuckle of her own, she has to swallow down the sob that follows.

“You won’t stop me?” she asks, because it seems _unreal_. Leia only shakes her head, huffing.

“We couldn’t stop you even if we tried, Rey. And besides, I believe in you.”

“Believe in me?”

“You’ll bring him back someday.”

“He’s Supreme Leader now!” Poe interjects. “Do you think he’s just going to leave his empire and join us? That’s impossible—“

“Oh, hush, Poe,” Leia tells him, turning to the commander. “We fight like we always do. We knew this was difficult. But Ben isn’t Snoke.” She glances at Rey. “There’s something he wants more than just power. But he’ll have to find that out by himself.”

“Before or after he wipes out the entire galaxy?” Poe asks, brow raised. Leia pats his shoulder.

“We’ll prevent that the way we always have done.”

Poe frowns, face still grim, but he no longer looks pained when he glances towards Rey. She offers a smile, small and apologetic, and while he doesn’t return it, he does nod.

 

They’ve removed her restraints and the Force-resistant bracelets, but she’s still brought back to the prison cell. Rey takes a seat on the bed, crosses her legs and takes in a deep breath.

It’s comforting to be connected to the Force again. She closes her eyes and reaches out, feels the waves of energy course through her, become one with her.

A familiar warmth prickles her skin.

_Rey._

A chaotic mix of relief and pain and agony. _Wherewereyouwherewereyou? Icouldn’tfeelyouIwassoscared—_

She reaches out to lay a hand on his. Kylo doesn’t still; he continues to buzz, something dark thrumming underneath his skin, in his blood. He doesn’t appear in her prison cell, but she still reaches out like he’s in there with her.

_I shouldn’t have run away._

_No, you did the right thing. They would hurt you, but they wouldn’t—didn’t—hurt me._

He bristles. She wishes she could lean her head against his shoulder.

They’re both silent, allowing waves of emotion and relief wash over both of them. Rey sighs; each touch leaves her breathless, like she’s in a desert searching for water. Kylo is a steady presence in her mind, and she wonders where he is right now, what he’s supposed to be doing. He wants to cradle her face in his large hands. He wants to kiss her eyelids and press a nose into her hair. She feels it. She knows it.

_They’re keeping you prisoner._

_No, they aren’t._

_Then why are you in a prison cell?_

_I don’t know._

Because she can’t be trusted. Because even if Leia doesn’t think she’s a traitor, even if maybe Poe’s forgiven her, she doesn’t know what the rest of the base thinks. Don’t they know what she’s done? What she’d been doing?

(What would Finn think?)

_Rey, I trust you._

_I know._

_You’re the only person that I trust._

She smiles, even if she thinks it’s not something to smile about.

It’s sad.

Your mother still trusts you, she wants to say, but she’s not sure how Kylo would react.

They can’t fight. They can’t pull away from each other. Not now. She just wants to soak in his presence, remember that he’s there—even if he’s half a galaxy away. If he pulls away then she’ll miss him again, and missing him is what got them into this mess in the first place.

Her damn traitorous heart.

 _Do you regret it?_ Kylo asks her.

_What do you mean?_

Loving me.

He doesn’t say these words. Not explicitly. But she feels them hovering, coiling around the bond, like a bird fluttering by and afraid to land.

Rey wishes she could hold him.

_No, I don’t regret anything._

He hums, silent.

 

A droid brings her lunch. There’s slightly more portions than last time, but it’s still the standard lunch ration. Not that Rey cares. She eats it slower this time, trying to savor it no matter the tastelessness, if only because there’s nothing else to do. She’d tried meditating, and then a few exercises, but she spends most of her time staring up at the ceiling and lost in her own head.

Kylo is always present, faintly brushing her mind. But he’s busy—that much she can tell—and she doesn’t prod at him.

The same droid brings her dinner. She returns her tray. It takes it without a beep. When Rey finishes, she paces around the room until she feels her eyelids grow heavy. Nobody visits her, and she ignores the spike of disappointment in her gut.

She lies in bed. Kylo doesn’t join her; his mind is still flurrying with activity and consciousness even when she drifts off to sleep.

 

When she wakes, he’s awake too.

Breakfast. Meditation and exercise. Lunch, accompanied by a book about galactic detectives. Rey takes it with a twisted smile, silently thanking Leia for the gift. She devours it until dinner arrives, devours the same rations with more gusto, and then returns to the book until her eyes grow tired.

A few more days locked up. She returns the book when she’s done, and the droid returns with the next instalment. Rey wants to laugh out, but she’s not sure if she’s ready to face anyone else on base yet. So she reads.

And eats and sleeps and meditates and tugs on their bond.

Kylo tugs back affectionately.

 

She wonders why nobody visits her. Why Finn doesn’t visit her. She wonders if he’s angry at her, if he hates her.

_He could never hate you._

She wonders if she’ll rot in here.

_If they dare do that to you, I’ll break you out myself._

_No need for that, Kylo._

She’s reminded of her days on Jakku, and suddenly she loses all appetite.

What is she waiting for? What are they waiting for?

 _You can break out anytime_ , Kylo helpfully supplies. _You’re not wearing the Force-resistant cuffs anymore._

_I know._

She knows.

_Don’t punish yourself, Rey._

_I’m not punishing myself._

He doesn’t believe her, and she hates it.

 

She has her eyes closed, and she’s in the middle of meditating when another knock comes at her door.

Poe opens it, and she tries not to show any emotion when he meets her eyes.

He isn’t flanked by soldiers this time.

“We... We’ve received a tip about the First Order’s construction plans,” he tells her. “Anonymous message, but it was proved correct. General Hux is building a new Stormtrooper academy, and they were sourcing raw materials from Outer Rim planets like Kah-telu.”

Rey is silent.

“The anonymous tip included the Order’s preferred trade routes, as well as the names of the officers to be stationed in the new Academy.” Poe pauses, and then opens the door the rest of the way. “We’re going undercover to sabotage their shipments.”

He smiles at her slowly. His eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Personally, I thought it was a trap, but their shipments aren’t that well guarded. The tip included a detailed account of the port’s security system too. General Organa wanted me to tell you that you’re invited to join us, if you’d like.”

Rey stands up. “Am I free?”

He shrugs. “Welcome back to the Resistance, Rey. I’m sorry about everything.”

She runs up to hug him. He squeezes back tightly, and she buries her face into his shoulder.

“I don’t understand how you can see anything in him,” Poe whispers into her hair. “But as long as you continue to fight with us, I’m happy.”

“Of course I’ll fight with you.”

“You’re fighting against him too.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

 

 

The ship rocks quietly. Rey curls up in her bunk, eyes focused on the endlessness of space outside their window. Patterns of white light dance all around them—the imprints of movement, of hyperdrive.

The rest of the team is asleep besides the pilot. Poe lies on the bunk across hers. The room is cramped with at least eight of them inside.

“Was that you?” she whispers. She presses a hand towards the glass.

Kylo hums through their bond, his voice heavy with sleep.

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

“Thank you for telling them,” she says. “Thank you, Kylo.”

He pauses, and then: _I never approved of Hux’s plans anyway._

She bites down her laugh. He presses his forehead against hers, a smile slipping onto his lips.

_Be safe. I’ll see you again._

“I’ll see you again.”

The galaxy stretches beyond them, silent and waiting. Rey huddles up underneath the blankets and then shuts her eyes tight, reaches out through the Force. There’s the faint impression of a larger, warmer body beside her—it curls around her frame, and she buries her face into a phantom chest.

She breathes steadily, counts his heartbeats in her mind as the day’s cycle draws to a close.

For one night, all is quiet, and all is enough.


End file.
